


When You Get a Minute, Baby

by madame_d



Series: Lab!Sync [1]
Category: Popslash
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-06
Updated: 2004-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein the boys work in a research lab. And Joey is featured only minorly.  And Justin is everyone's bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Get a Minute, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Because [without_me](without_me.livejournal.com) is an evil enabler, and [jewelianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/) is a _really_ enthusiastic and encouraging cheerleader.
> 
> Here be completely fictionalized and unrealistic descriptions of working in a bio lab. I wish it were true; it would make my work that much more fun. Alas, I do not have a JC or a Nick at _my_ place of employment. That said, the work they do, tools they use, and techniques they employ _are_ all real.
> 
> **WARNING** : they work in a lab. They do _animal experiments_ ; there is a graphic description of such in the story. Please abstain if that is a potential trigger.

Lance locks his car and looks around. It smells like spring, though they'll only get a few days of it or, if they're lucky, a couple of weeks, before the heat and humidity set in. But the air has a fresh crispness to it that Lance loves. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something bouncing, and his caffeinated brain drolly suggests that maybe it's a baby wallaby that has escaped from the zoo. In reality, the 'baby wallaby' turns out to be Chris, who is waiting for Lance by the main entrance, and is, in fact, bouncing on the balls of his feet. A bouncy Chris means either good news, or that he's had breakfast of black coffee and Twinkies. Again. Lance hopes it's the former, because he's doomed if it's the latter. For Chris, Twinkies and caffeine are worse than LSD, heroin, and crack cocaine, _combined_.

Chris says hello then asks if Nick is in yet. 

"Chris. I just got here. I don't have ESP; I have no idea if Nick's arrived." Chris nods, and they fall into step as they walk to the door. 

Lance switches his messenger bag to the other shoulder so that he isn't hitting Chris with it and together, they enter the building. Chris doesn't say a word as they flash their IDs to the guard and board the elevator. They both reach for the ID scanner that will allow them to get to their floor, but Chris is closer so he gets to do it. He slides his ID through the scanner, then pushes the button for their floor. 

It isn't until the doors of the elevator open that Chris says, "Bass, come into my office." They walk down the hall to Chris' office, saying hello to Dani, Chris's secretary. She opens her mouth to say something but Chris asks her to hold his calls; he'll be with her in 15 minutes. 

Once they're seated behind the mahogany conference table in Chris' office, Chris at the head and Lance next to him, Chris' face splits into a huge grin. 

"We got it, didn't we?" Lance guesses. 

"That we did. They called me last night. We're not getting the paperwork until the end of the week, since they're only mailing it out today. And it's not going into effect until January. But damn, man, we got it!" 

Chris has a good reason to be excited. A five million grant from the NIH is not something to joke about. And that's five million of pure research money, not including the overhead that will go to the medical school for 'lab upkeep.' 

"Yay!" Lance says, because it seems fitting. 

"Right. So here's the deal. Because of the success, the Chair wants us to try pushing for that other grant that the NIH rejected; getting more data, submitting it to the other organizations, attempt to get the money for it." 

"Oh, that's not going to happen. There's too much to do, and I won't be able to help out much after January, I'll have to work on my doctoral thesis." 

Chris beams and nods, "That's issue number two. Pearlman invited us to join their lab. You know that they're a core facility. They have so many technicians that you won't ever have to run your own ELISAs or do Western blots again. We get to keep our own grant money; they're not getting any of it. And Pearlman gets to get his hands on a spectacular tech that they don't have, and a brilliant grad student. Well. A fellow-type person." 

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Kirkpatrick," Lance mentions. "What are our other options?" 

"We could hire a couple of more people. Someone on Nick's level, to help with the dirty work, and someone with advanced education who could contribute intellectually and do the complicated animal stuff Nick can't." 

"What's the catch?" 

"You get to wade through resumes and do all the work for it. I will have to interview them myself, but I don't have time for paperwork; I've got money to make." 

Lance sighs. He likes Chris, a lot, but one of Chris' negative qualities is that he isn't fond of doing things that bore him. Such as posting a job listing and going through resumes to pick a good candidate. Still, it's better to remain an autonomous lab than join Pearlman's, because Lance likes the intimate privacy and exclusivity the Kirkpatrick lab provides. 

"All right," he says decisively, "I'll find you a couple of people. You'll owe me lunch." Chris winks at him as he leaves and heads for the lunch room. If Nick's here, then the coffee will be ready and there will be bagels on the counter by the microwave. And bingo, there's his breakfast. He's glad they organized this: five bucks a week per person, and Nick, as the youngest, keeps the room stocked with coffee grinds, filters for the coffee maker, breakfast foods, and condiments. 

Lance slathers some light cream cheese on a marble bagel, pours himself a coffee and sits down to ponder candidates for the job, since the easiest way to find someone is to go with people you know. Or people you know who know people who know... Six degrees of separation and all that. 

Nick bounds into the lunch room and sits across from Lance at the table. From his happy grin, it's safe to guess that Chris had told him the news. Lance swallows the last of his coffee and says, "So. We need to hire a techie to work with you. Any suggestions?" 

Nick thinks for a moment. "Actually. There's this guy. He's a friend of a friend, whose friend used to date him. He's graduating soon and is looking for a job. He's good. His undergrad thesis is something about cyclins; his defense is at the end of May. He's worked in a lab since freshman year, and he wants to stay in this line of research. Want me to get his info?" 

*** 

A week later, Lance slaps several sheets of paper on Chris' desk and tells him, "These are the people we want." 

Chris looks at them. "They're both male." 

Lance shrugs. "A fluke. I didn't start out planning to have an all-male lab. I think we could've benefited from female influence. But these are the best candidates for the positions, so." 

Chris looks through the resumes, quickly scanning the single page of Timberlake's, the guy Nick recommended, and lingering on the Fellow's. Lance knows that Chris will be impressed. JC Chasez is some kind of genius. He graduated high school a few months short of sixteen, did college and medical school in six years, and did his surgical residency at the Mayo Clinic. After, they offered him to stay there permanently and he chose to become a fellow in the hospital's labs instead, doing research. His resume is four pages long. Lance has absolutely no idea if they can manage to lure him away from the much more prestigious places once his fellowship concludes but he hopes that Chris will be able to sell the guy on the idea. 

***

When interviews roll around, Justin Timberlake turns out to be tall and lean, looking like a star athlete with a cheerleader girlfriend, not a scientist. He has short brown hair and clear, intelligent blue eyes. His shirt matches his eyes, and Chris knows that Justin knows it. He's wearing tan slacks and a dark-blue blazer, no tie, and Chris has to give the kid points for his brazen attitude, showing up at for an interview like that. Chris is used to seeing people in three-piece suits during interviews in this place. 

His handshake is firm, and his voice is sure, and Chris knows, within minutes of talking to him, that he's perfect for the lab. Then, it's just the matter of selling the job and persuading the kid to take the position. 

JC Chasez is gorgeous, and the thought hits Chris like a ton of bricks as soon as the man walks through the door of his office. His shoulder-length mane of straight dark-brown hair shifts and shines with every step, like something out of a shampoo commercial. His black suit, with its grey shirt and silver tie, is impeccable. His chin sports a soul patch, and when he shakes Chris' hand, the sleeves ride up to reveal several studded leather bracelets wrapped around his wrist. Of the S&M leather store variety. 

Chris smiles. Not that innocent, after all. He sits at the head of the table with his back to the door, JC on his right. They discuss JC's residency and his research, and JC speaks confidently and surely. The man has talent, and Chris will buy Lance several lunches for finding him, not just one. 

Chris gives him the tour of the facilities, and then they come back to Chris' office to talk some more. In the middle of Chris' spiel about the lab, JC's attention wanders, his eyes flickering between Chris' face and somewhere above Chris' head. Chris trails off and smirks. Must be one of the blonds. He turns around to see Lance standing in the doorway. Well, lounging against it, really, arms crossed over his chest, one knee bent with the foot on the wall behind him. He's staring at JC as intently as JC's looking at him. 

"Yes, Bass? You wanted something?" Chris inquires, bemused. 

Lance frowns and clears his throat. "Yeah. It's 12:30 already. Would you like to continue this discussion over lunch?" 

Chris looks over at JC, "Lunch?" 

JC manages to tear his gaze away from Lance and look at Chris, "Sure, cat, I'm starving." 

In the caf, they get their food and find a remote table. JC sits across from Chris, and Chris leans forward, looking at him intently. 

"Look, JC, I'll be honest with you: we really want you here. I don't know what else I can say to sell you on the idea of working in this lab, but we'd be really happy if you'd join us here." 

JC nods. "I accept. I'd love to come work here." 

"You don't want to take a few days to think it over?" 

"Nah, cat, I've seen the lab, I've heard you talk. This place is perfect. When do I start?" 

And that's that; they have their staff. 

*** 

On Monday, when Chris walks into the lab, looking for Lance, there's a stranger in Lance's room. From this angle, all Chris can see is curly brown hair and the earpiece of wire-rimmed glasses. Chris clears this throat and the man turns around. It's JC. 

Wordlessly, Chris points to his messy curls and JC reaches for them self-consciously, then stops. 

"This is me, man. I hate making the effort to blow-dry it, so this is me, _au naturel_." He scrunches up his nose to make his downward-sliding glasses shift upwards. He looks adorable, and Chris can't help but smile. 

"What are you working on?" 

JC looks down at his gloved hands, as if he's forgotten that he was doing anything. "Oh. It's been ages since I've done any labwork so I asked Nick to re-teach me the basics while he does the same for Justin. It's probably easier for him, training two people at once." 

Chris nods encouragingly. "Hey, have you seen Lance?" 

JC pinkens slightly. "I think he was in cell culture?" 

Chris thanks him and walks away. Two feet away from the cell culture room it hits him that JC's t-shirt underneath the white of the labcoat was hot pink. He just shakes his head. This JC guy is weird but definitely intriguing. By the time Chris finds Lance, he doesn't remember any more why he was looking for him in the first place. 

*** 

To celebrate the new addition, Chris takes them all to a club, managing to get some sponsorship so that all food and drinks are paid for by some poor pharmaceutical company rep. Dani is coming, as well, and Lance invites Joey, his friend from college who was the only one not involved in science. To be fair, Joey did start out as chemistry major, but halfway through freshman year, he switched to performance arts, and hasn't looked back since. Joey is touring with a Broadway company and isn't around much, so when he calls Lance to let him know he's in town, Lance grabs a chance to see him and invites him to the club. 

Joey spends the entire night drinking, dancing, and flirting shamelessly with the company rep and Dani, though what Dani knows and the rep doesn't is that after an STD scare, Joey doesn't sleep around any more. Still, Joey's charisma loosens up the uptight-looking rep, and she does some ordering of her own, getting drinks and food for the entire table without waiting for them to order it. Sometime after midnight, Lance sees Justin and Joey engaged in a very animated discussion about PlayStation. Chris, ever the gentleman, offers to see Dani to her car, and Lance, Nick, and JC leave Justin and Joey at the rep's mercy and go home. 

*** 

A few weeks later, Lance and Justin enter the animal room, carrying stacks of empty mouse cages needed for the unpleasant but required task of mouse colony maintenance. JC, in scrubs, a surgical cap, and with booties over his feet, is sitting by the surgery desk working on something. Lance is just about to come closer and take a look when an errant curl escapes the tight confines of the cap and springs free, sliding across JC's cheek and hanging over his eyes. JC reaches for it, hands gloved and blood-stained, a pair of tiny forceps still stuck between his middle and ring fingers, and Lance erupts into action because the idea of getting blood onto those pretty curls is unbearable. It's not like JC can get anything from mice – they're absolutely clean, but just the fact that there might be blood on JC's hair makes Lance cringe. He drops his stack of cages haphazardly onto the nearest counter, and runs up to JC. 

"JC, no!" He exclaims quietly, and JC's hand stops mere inches away from his head. Lance stands behind JC's chair and unties the cap, snagging one string between his teeth as he runs his fingers through JC's hair, combing it away from his forehead. He replaces the cap, tightly tying the strings, and presses down slightly to make sure it stays. 

"There," he says with satisfaction of a job well done. Then, he realizes just what he'd done, and blushes to the tips of his hair. Except that JC is looking at him over his shoulder with the sunniest grateful smile ever, so Lance smiles back shyly and goes to take care of his mice. Thankfully, Justin waits until they're out of JC's earshot before he starts laughing at Lance. 

"You guys. You're so into each other and you won't even say anything, let alone do anything." 

"Justin!" Lance protests. "I don't even know if JC's… non-straight." 

"Have you seen the boy, Lance? His clothes? His… everything? If he's straight, that would be the cruelest joke ever." 

"Most cruel," Lance corrects absently, but unfortunately, Justin has a point. 

JC is still doing surgery by the time Justin and Lance are done with the cages, so they approach to take a look. JC looks up at them briefly, then goes back to the mouse pinned to the rubber surface, explaining along the way for Justin's benefit. 

"What I'm doing here is in-vivo staining. I anesthetized the mouse first, then flushed out its blood with a buffer solution and injected this dye into the left ventricle. See? Because the heart is still beating, I'm utilizing the mouse's own circulation system to distribute the dye throughout the body and organs. This is not actually part of the experiment; I'm trying out the best way to get this perfusion done. I already figured out the pressure part, but the needles are giving me problems. If I use a smaller gauge, then I can't get enough dye into the system, but a large gauge tears through the heart and kills the mouse before any perfusion is done." 

Justin looks vaguely ill, but nods his understanding. The phone rings and Lance walks away to answer it while JC explains why he does what he does. 

The caller is from the Employee Healthcare Services, inquiring why Dr. Chasez has yet to show up for his TB test. Lance says that Dr. Chasez is in surgery but promises to relay the message and hangs up. 

"Hey, JC? That was Health Services. They want you to come in for your TB test." 

Lance doesn't think he says anything out of the ordinary but his short message makes JC's hands shake and he drops the syringe. Thankfully, the needle cap is still on. JC tries to pick it up and drops it again, this time scattering his instruments as well. 

Justin puts on gloves and helps JC collect his tools, discarding the syringe into the sharps' container and putting the rest of them on the tray. 

"You okay, 'C?" He asks, while Lance just stares in bafflement. 

"Yeah. I just. Needles. Don't like them? More like hate them. It's a ... you know. Not fear. Phobia. Yes. Phobia of needles. Because ... yes." 

Justin and Lance exchange glances. Wasn't JC just holding a syringe with a needle attached? 

Justin turns back to JC, confusion written plainly on his face. 

"But. You use needles for animals and stuff." 

"Oh yes. Just not for me. Animals are fine. But needles shouldn't be pointing their sharp thingies at me. No." 

JC gives them both a dorky smile that squinches his eyes shut, then turns back to his tray. Behind his back, Justin points a thumb at him and mouths to Lance, "Too cute!" 

*** 

Chris isn't certain what to do. One moment, he is sitting at his computer, counting the days until the paper deadline, and bemoaning the fact that it is early June already. The next, he is leaning his hip against the desk, and Nick is in his chair, head pressed against Chris' stomach. Chris has an armful of warm, very upset boy clinging to him, and his palms tingle as he rubs Nick's cotton-covered shoulder, his fingers wanting more than just card through the boy's hair. 

Sure, he's seen Nick upset before, because in their weekly meetings, Nick would sometimes say that he thinks his mother is a psychopath who is out to completely fuck up her younger children, the way she never had a chance to with Nick because he made sure to be busy during high school and then left for college and never went back. But his mother never made Nick cry before, at least not on Chris, not the way that Nick is clutching at him, seeking comfort, his tears soaking into Chris' shirt. 

Chris lets him cry, and then Nick stops, wipes angrily at his cheeks, and starts talking, fast, in a low, hoarse voice. For some reason, his mother started picking on his younger brother. The kid is barely 16, and she's trying to push him into show business, though he doesn't have any interest in it. She's sexing him up, which is just wrong, and he looks like every pedophile's wet dream. And Nick is scared for him, because he doesn't think his brother can fight their mom, is probably too frightened or overwhelmed, and tonight, Nick will go pick up his brother from his parents' house, try to persuade their mother that the kid will be better off with Nick for the summer. He doesn't know what to do after, but he hopes to apply for legal guardianship. 

Chris listens, and his heart goes out to both of them. He leans his cheek against Nick's soft spikes and says softly, "It'll be ok. I'll do what I can, if you let me help. It'll be all right. Shhh." 

*** 

A week later, there's a Nick clone walking around the lab. The boy is a younger, blonder, paler, more fragile-looking version of Nick. Nick introduces him as Aaron, says he'll be volunteering until the end of summer, learning tricks of the trade. The first couple of weeks that Aaron is in the lab, Nick has too much work to do to explain everything that he does, so Chris abandons his office, puts on his lab coat, and takes the boy around, showing him little entertaining tricks such as labeling cells with fluorescent dye, and then looking at them under the microscope. Chris is a great teacher, and Aaron is captive audience. Throughout the week, Lance hears their bright laughter in the various rooms on the floor. 

Eventually, Aaron heads downstairs with JC, learning animal work, such as how to brand mice with little clips in their ears, and tell male from female, and how to test for GFP-positivity by placing genetically altered mice onto the UV plate in the darkroom and watch their paws, ears, and nose fluoresce green. One of those times, Lance rounds the corner and sees Chris and Nick kissing in the hallway between the bathrooms. Nick is propped up against the wall, slouching, and Chris is standing between his thighs, hands gently cradling Nick's face, thumbs stroking Nick's cheekbones tenderly. Nick looks totally into it, one hand at the small of Chris' back pressing them closely from the neck down, the other holding the back of Chris' head. Lance blinks and turns away when he sees flashes of tongue. 

Walking away, he thinks of a party he dragged Nick to a couple of months ago. There was lots of booze and pretty boys, and Nick, being pretty and blond and smart, was immediately accosted by one of Lance's acquaintances. At first, Nick avoided him, then he ignored him, but finally he just snapped and said he wasn't interested because Kevin had a dick, something Nick wasn't attracted to. 

Of course, current evidence points to the contrary, but Lance thinks that maybe Nick is still straight, just not narrow. Or maybe just Chris-sexual. 

Lance doesn't say anything for a while but then, Nick starts walking funny and wearing these very annoying, contented smirks, and Lance feels it's his duty to bring up the subject. One morning, Nick is prepping for Lance's ELISA, and when Lance comes in to give him the ice-bucket with serum samples, he says, "So. You and Chris?" 

Nick flushes but doesn't say anything. 

"I'm not here to judge, Nicky. Just to wish you luck. And, you know, don't let it mess up the lab chemistry. I mean. He's your boss, you know?" 

Nick looks up from under his lowered lashes, gazing bashfully over Lance's shoulder. "I've been crushing on him for so long, man, and then I saw him with Aaron... and I just... I can't... he's so..." He looks at Lance helplessly. 

Lance chuckles. The boy is so gone. 

*** 

Wednesday after Labor Day, Nick stalks into Histology, face tight and lab coat tails flying behind him. Lance raises an eyebrow and watches as Nick composes himself, reattaching his ID to his lapel, and fastening all the buttons. Probably a good idea if you're planning to stain samples and not your skin or your clothes. 

Once he's done, Nick leans his ass on the counter, crosses his ankles and his arms, and stares at Lance, pouting. 

"What's up, Nicky?" 

The answer is a gloomy, "The reps are here." 

"Ah. It's that time of year again." Nick makes a disgusted face and nods. 

Several times a year, representatives from various companies they order from come over, pimping new products, offering them better prices on things they buy elsewhere and, in general, taking up precious time with empty talk. Adding to the annoyance is the fact that for some reason, they get pretty, bimbo-like young females to deal with, possibly because the lab is all-male. 

Nick does most of the ordering but he hates dealing with reps because he's pretty and can never get any useful information out of the girls; all they do is flirt with him. Chris and Lance never had to deal with them because they had Nick to delegate the task to. However, now that Nick's found himself in a happy relationship, the flirty chatty girls are probably getting on his nerves all the more. 

Lance smiles, "Make the token straight boy talk to them. Send Justin. He's the youngest; he gets to do the crappy things by default. Besides, who knows? He might enjoy it." 

Nick stares for a second, then slaps his forehead, as if he can't believe he hasn't thought of it himself, and bounds off to look for poor Justin. Lance thinks, though, that Justin brings it onto himself. Why else would he be coming to work in super-tight t-shirts that highlight his gym-bunny physique, and low-rise slim-fit jeans in which his legs seem to go on forever? 

It seems only fair to throw the pretty boy to the lions. Or reps, as the case may be. 

*** 

Friday after Labor Day, in mid-afternoon, someone storms into Chris' office and sniffles piteously. Chris is in the middle of a Snood game and he doesn't know where the 'pause' button is, so he waves his free hand in the general direction of the person and doesn't take his eyes off the screen. He ignores the second sniffle, too. The third comes just as his next level is loading, so he looks up and sees his pouting boyfriend. 

He minimizes the game and pushes away from the desk, so that Nick can stand between him and the computer, and he can stroke Nick's silky skin underneath his shirt and drive the boy crazy as he talks. 

Nick says sulkily, "Make them go away." 

Chris has no idea what he's talking about. "Who?" 

"The reps. I made Justin deal with them but they just keep coming, like cockroaches or locusts or something. Can't we just file something with security that reps aren't allowed to come up here?" 

Frankly, Chris thinks that Justin is doing a great job at dealing with the reps. He already got them a 15% discount at Ambion, and the Fisher girl said she'd get back to him about the 23% off that he requested. Lower prices on supplies mean bigger raises and the ability to do more experiments since they can order more stuff. 

"Sweetie," he tries, and Nick winces; he's not big on cutesy endearments. 

"No. Nicky, look. Justin is actually getting us good prices with them, and I think there won't be any more reps until January. Why don't I try taking your mind off of things?" Chris lifts the hem of Nick's t-shirt and sticks his tongue in Nick's belly-button, making him giggle. Then, he presses feather-light kisses down the treasure trail to the waistband of Nick's pants, and laughter turns into barely-suppressed moans. 

Nick clutches at Chris' hair, and Chris says to his stomach, "How about I take you to the movies – something raw, and sexy, and violent – and then we'll go back to my place and I'll ravish you. All. Night. Long." 

Nick's belly muscles jump underneath Chris' mouth, and Nick says, "Can we skip the movie?" 

Chris lifts his head and smiles. His boyfriend is adorable. "Yeah. Wanna go now?" 

Nick nods. "I just need to be home before midnight. Now that Aaron's living with me, I have to set a good example and not stay out all night long. At least not every night." 

*** 

As time draws closer to various meetings, Lance finds himself with much to do and very little time, so he gets to work early, before 7. Today, a glance into the lunch room reveals that Justin is here already, since there are bagels and muffins by the microwave. If nothing else, he thinks that Nick is happy to have Justin around just because Justin, as the youngest, gets to do crap tasks. Such as stocking the lunch room. Technically, Justin could've claimed that it is JC's job, since JC was hired last, but his sense of self-preservation and his desire for breakfast every morning probably stop him from voicing any arguments. 

Lance starts walking to the office room, where all of them but Chris have their desks with computers, and stops short. There's a small fold-out cot set up in the hallway. The one they keep for times when they stay in the lab too late to make it home, or need to sleep in the lab while their place is fumigated or something. It's never been used, to be honest. And the cot is occupied now, by a small, blanket-covered lump. A lump that, judging by the curls, happens to be JC. 

Lance walks up to the cot and can't help a smile. JC is curled up on the tiny bed, hands folded under his cheek, one pale foot sticking out from under the thin blanket. The second toe is sporting a toe-ring. There's a pile of pale green on the floor, JC's scrubs probably, and Lance hopes against hope that it's just the top, though he knows, logically, that the pile is too big. Plus, there's JC's bare calf sliding from under the blanket, and a naked shoulder peeking out where the coverlet has slid down. 

Lance leans over, placing his hand on JC's head, and stroking down, past his ear and his neck, and to the bare shoulder. 

"JC?" He says softly. "Wakey wakey." 

Very slowly, JC peels his eyes open, his face cracking into a huge beaming grin when he sees Lance. He props himself up on his elbows and looks at Lance, still smiling sleepily. The coverlet slides halfway down his bare chest, and Lance has to force himself to keep his eyes level with JC's face. 

"Coffee?" Lance asks and JC nods. 

"Breakfast?" Another nod. 

"Then go grab a shower, wash up, and I'll pour you a cup in the lunch room." This earns him another nod. Then, JC collapses his elbows, tugs the blanket up to his neck, and burrows into the pillow. Lance waits until the urge to melt from cuteness has passed, then attempts a take two at waking up Dr. Chasez. 

*** 

In early October, Chris stumbles into the lunch room and falls heavily into the chair. His life sucks. His boyfriend refuses to sleep over because he has a lot of work to do, so as a result, Chris barely sees him during the day, and doesn't see him at all during the night. His secretary hates him and has left on vacation when he needs her the most – he's working on paper submissions and there's nobody to bring him his coffee. In addition, his staff is giving him weird looks because he hasn't met with them in weeks, and they're probably wondering if he cares at all for the work they're doing. Moreover, because of the volume of work, he's been coming in at 7am every morning, which just messes up with his morning-hating internal clock. 

Chris drops his head on the table and groans when he hears footsteps. It's probably Nick. The boyfriend who didn't want to stay over last night and left before Chris could seduce him back into bed. 

"Hey man, you all right?" It's Justin. 

"No," Chris mumbles sulkily. "I haven't had sugar, I haven't had coffee, and my boyfriend is withholding sex." 

Justin chuckles, "Well, I can't help with the sex, but I can get you coffee." Moments later, there are clanging sounds of a ceramic mug being deposited onto the table. 

Chris finally raises his head, "You're Godsend. Thank God I was smart enough to hire you. And actually, what are you doing here at – " Chris squints at the clock on the microwave, " – 7:10 in the am?" 

Justin points to the bag with bagels, "Breakfast?" 

"Well. Yes, I know it's your job, but it's not your job to always bring breakfast before the rest of us get here. You can come in later. We can wait." 

Justin shrugs, "I don't mind. I have a lot of work, anyway." 

Chris mutters to himself, "Now that's dedication." 

He leans over to rummage in his backpack and takes out a lollipop. He points at Justin with it, "Want one?" When Justin declines, Chris unwraps it and sticks it into his mouth, sucking lewdly for Justin's benefit. 

Justin rolls his eyes at him, and Chris reaches for his coffee – black, just the way he likes it – and drinks it without removing the lollipop from his mouth. 

"You make good coffee, Justin," he remarks and the kid blushes slightly with praise. "Are there any Danishes?" 

"Uh. Actually..." Justin trails off. "I started buying muffins, instead. So we have either bagels or muffins, if you want?" 

Chris grunts. Muffins have way less sugar than his Danishes. 

More footsteps, and this time it's Lance. He takes one look at Chris and reaches for the lollipop. 

"Christopher. Give me that." He grabs at the stick and wiggles it lightly, as one would to remove a stick from a dog's mouth. Chris growls at him but Lance is persistent, so Chris just opens his mouth and lets Lance take it. 

Lance throws the lollipop into the trash, grabs a whole-grain bagel, deftly slices it, and sticks it into the toaster. When it pops out, he puts some light veggie cream cheese on it, and slides it across the table to Chris. Then, he gets the jug of 2% milk from the fridge, and dilutes Chris' coffee with it. Through it all, Chris watches Justin watch them with something akin to shock. 

"Eat," Lance commands. 

To Justin, Lance explains, "Chris is not allowed to have pure sugar or pure caffeine at any time during the day. His coffee needs to be weak or decaf, and he's not to have lollipops, Twinkies, or any other source of unhealthy sugar, okay? You do _not_ want to deal with Chris high on sugar. Trust me." 

Chris growls at Lance a little, and snaps his teeth at him, but eats the bagel anyway, winking at Justin behind Lance's back, and doing a swirling motion with his index finger by his temple. Without turning around, Lance tells Chris mildly, "I saw that. Eat your sort of healthy food and stop making fun of me." 

"Yes, daddy," Chris says meekly. 

When Lance leaves, having swallowed his black coffee in two gulps, Justin turns to Chris and asks, "Is he for real?" 

Chris shrugs. "Meh, whatever. He thinks he can keep sugar away from me but what he doesn't know can't hurt… Actually, it can, but whatever." Chris cackles evilly. Chris grabs his mug and heads out, to deal with evil papers and maybe work some on the lecture he's supposed to deliver to the third year medical students sometime next week. 

Over his shoulder, he tells Justin, "Why don't you come see me today after lunch? We'll have coffee and Twinkies, and I'll finally get the results of those experiments from you. Lance says I can use quite a few of them in my papers." 

In the doorway, he bumps into Nick. They stare at each other for a moment, then Nick bends down and kisses his mouth lightly, "Hi, honey." 

Chris gives him a crooked grimace of a smile and Nick gives Chris a proper kiss, with a little tongue and Nick-flavored. 

When he pulls away, he says, "I'm spending the night tonight, if that's all right with you." He leans down and takes a sip from Chris' mug, making a face at the bitterness. He kisses Chris again and walks away. 

Chris beams at his back and makes his way to his office. It's not a bad start for the day. 

*** 

Lance is walking out the door to go get ice for his experiment, which he's not sure he wants to start on a Friday afternoon, particularly since Monday is a holiday, when he sees a familiar and much-hated figure. An environmental health & safety inspector. Normally, inspections aren't supposed to be a surprise, but Chris is the kind of person who tends to piss people off for fun, so they're never warned in advance, as labs usually are, when an inspector is going to come by. 

Lance has nothing to worry about - all of his hazardous materials are secured and clearly labeled. And he's wearing his ID, and his lab coat, and long pants, and closed-toe shoes. On the other hand, JC, who is off somewhere, is wearing capris and flip-flops, and probably doesn't even remember where he'd seen his ID badge last. They could be cited and fined for that, big time. It doesn't matter that they haven't been before; rules are rules. 

Lance puts the Styrofoam bucket down, deciding that he's not running the experiment today after all, takes his lab coat off, and sets off to find JC. On a hunch, he heads for the bathrooms. He rounds the corner just as he sees JC coming out the door. He's self-consciously tugging on the hem of his sleeveless top, which doesn't quite reach the low-slung waistband of his capris, leaving a tantalizing inch or so of a toned and hair-dusted stomach uncovered. Lance tears his eyes off JC's skin, and swallows the urge to drop down on his knees and find out how the flesh tastes. 

Unthinkingly, he raises his arms, and plants two firm hands on JC's chest, pushing him back into the bathroom. He has every intention to explain, but when he sees JC's wide eyes with dilated pupils, feels the faster pace of JC's heart under his palm, all his thoughts disappear. 

'Fuck it,' he thinks and grabs the back of JC's head, pulling him down and kissing him. 

Lance's next thought is 'Oh shit,' because this is it. He doesn't know how he will be able to live without JC's lips and kisses. Because it is as perfect as the most cliched of cliches, soft and sweet and tender, and JC licks at his upper lip, and tugs the lower one into his mouth, sucking lightly before gently nipping on it. 

JC backs Lance into the door, and Lance reaches down to lock it. JC pulls Lance's shirt from his pants and his hands worm their way underneath, caressing the skin and roving all over. Lance takes that as invitation to do some groping of his own, and slides his hands under JC's top, stroking the skin of his lower back a few times before plunging under the waistband. He feels like smirking when JC moans in the back of his throat in response to Lance squeezing his ass. 

Sanity returns, and Lance realizes that they're making out against the door of the bathroom. Granted, it's a one-person unisex bathroom, and he'd locked the door, but still. He takes one look at JC - flushed, disheveled, and utterly debauched - and finds himself unable to care, leaning in for more kisses. 

JC kisses him back hungrily, unbuttoning Lance's shirt, then nibbling his way down Lance's neck, sucking on the collarbone. Lance tangles his hands in JC's curls and tells him, "We could leave. It's Friday afternoon; we won't get anything done today anyway." It takes him a while to say it, his speech interrupted by sighs and moans, because JC? Is really good at what he's doing. 

He pulls away and presses his index finger to JC's mouth to stop further kisses. Except that somehow, his finger has a life of its own and is slowly sliding down, catching on JC's lower lip. JC looks straight into Lance's eyes and sucks his finger in. Lance imagines he's about half a second away from coming in his pants like a randy teenager, and he can't be fucked to care. He tugs on his finger, and it slides out of JC's mouth with a rather obscene popping sound. Then JC is leaning in, and they're kissing again. 

Finally, they manage to find the strength to separate and readjust their clothes, eyes roving over each other hungrily. Lance leaves first, to check that the coast is clear and that the inspector has left. He walks quickly to the lab, finding a note on his bench that says that they've been inspected today by so-and-so, and goes back to get JC. 

Five minutes later, they're in Lance's car going back to his place. Lance makes JC sit in the backseat; he's not sure he can drive if JC's sitting next to him, and he suspects that JC wouldn't be sitting quietly. He'd be squirming and sighing and probably trying to touch, and Lance wants to get back in one piece so that his entire body will enjoy JC's charms. 

JC pounces as soon as Lance closes and locks the door of the apartment, and Lance feels like he should reward him for his patience and willpower. They leave a trail of clothes and footwear from the door to the bedroom, like in a cliche romance movie, and fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Lance reaches into his bedside stand, grabbing a handful of condoms and lube and throws them onto the bed. It's big; there's enough room for them and for the supplies. 

They roll a little on the bed, but eventually, Lance finds himself on his back, JC straddling his hips and leaning over him, hands over Lance's wrists as he extends them over Lance's head. Lance takes the hint and grabs the headboard, mentally preparing himself for the torture. JC doesn't disappoint. Very soon, Lance is moaning a litany of 'OhGodohGodohGodohGod,' over and over again, and JC is only on his right nipple. Lance arches his back, and JC takes the hint and moves slightly faster. 

JC is driving Lance insane by licking the groove between his groin and his thigh, slowly and thoroughly, moving towards Lance's dick, when Lance finds his voice, in-between 'Oh God' and 'Oh fuck, JC,' and tells him, "Use a condom." 

JC lifts his head, frowning in confusion, and Lance explains breathlessly, "I haven't been tested in six months and my appointment isn't till next week. So, you know, safety first, okay?" 

JC gropes around on the bed, snagging a condom, and Lance goes through every trick in the book while he puts it on. His teeth are clenched so tight he's sure he's loosened a molar or two. He feels JC's curls on his thighs and opens his eyes to see JC bent over with his mouth wide-open, ready to proceed. Then, unexpectedly, he raises his head. 

"I'm not a fan of the taste," he admits. And Lance can't believe he's saying it, because he's dreamed of this for so long, it's been his favorite fantasy ever since JC had started working with them, but now he tells JC, "Just use your hand." Belatedly, it occurs to him that he doesn't need a condom for the hand job, but then, without a condom JC might be tempted to blow him, which wouldn't be a good idea right at this moment. Lance had gone through a few slutty months trying to get JC out of his system, and he wasn't always as safe as he should've been, so he's not risking giving anything to JC. 

JC puts his hand on Lance's dick and leans down and under, sucking one of Lance's balls into his mouth. And that's how Lance comes, contained by the condom as JC licks at his balls. JC removes the condom and ties it off, leaning over the edge of the bed to drop it onto the floor. After that, it's just a matter of finding strength to reach for JC and pull him down, holding him tight as he thrusts and rubs against Lance until he tenses and comes all over Lance's chest. Lance will be dreaming of JC's orgasm face until the day he dies. 

After sex, they sleep a little, then Lance wakes up to take a shower, and cooks a light dinner while JC takes his. They eat and attempt watching TV, but wind up in bed again, JC riding him until they can't breathe. Throughout the weekend, the cycle repeats. By Sunday afternoon, they're so fucked out that even the thought of sex makes them wince. Lance thinks his dick might fall off from overuse, and they are both having trouble walking, or sitting, or anything else, for that matter. So, Sunday night is spent in bed, lying on their stomachs and facing each other, having one of those 'getting to know you better' conversations. JC talks about his younger siblings, both still in school. Lance speaks of his older sister, married with a kid and another on the way. 

JC says, "Chris said that it was you who recommended me to him. How did you know about me?" 

Lance smiles, "I told Chris that it was a big secret, but honestly, I'd stumbled upon your article and investigated further. The only reason why Chris didn't know was because his area of interest is slightly different from mine." 

JC scoots closer, planting a soft, barely-there kiss on Lance's lips. "Mmmmmm. What are we going to do at work about all... this?" 

_Fuck_. Lance hadn't thought about that. After all the grief he'd given Nick about him and Chris, he deserves a lot of teasing. He turns onto his side. "Define 'this'," he tells JC. "Do you mean a sex-filled weekend, sixty hours of satisfying lust, or..." 

JC winces and refuses to look him in the eye, "I thought we had the beginning of something here. But. If you want it to be just sex. Right. Okay." 

"No. JC..." Lance reaches out and slides his hand down the silky-smooth, warm skin of JC's shoulder-blade. "I want more. I want this to be the start of something beautiful. I just... I didn't know how you felt." 

"Oh, honey," JC murmurs, rolling onto his side so that he's chest to chest with Lance, and kissing him. It's sweet and slow, mouths exploring, fingertips barely tracing the skin. They really are too sore to do much, but JC grabs both of their dicks in one hand and jerks them off until they come. They fall asleep like that, snuggled together, sticky with sweat and come. 

In the morning, they shower together to save time (which doesn't, as it never does), and JC borrows a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, stuffing his worn clothes into a plastic bag. Lance gets dressed for work, a button-down shirt, and dark slacks, and drives JC to his apartment, kissing him goodbye in the car, and promising to see him at work. Then he drives to the lab and steels himself to face the day. 

They manage to behave themselves for most of the week, but sometime around 5pm on Thursday, when Lance is cleaning up the bench, JC slides up behind him, arms around his waist as he kisses behind Lance's ear. Lance turns within the circle of JC's arms and proffers his mouth for kisses, instead. 

That's how Chris, Nick, Justin, and Dani find out about them, when they walk into the lab to get Lance and JC for the lab's weekly outing to the pub. There are whistles and catcalls, and Chris suggests a kiss-off contest for which Nick lightly smacks him on the arm. Justin whoops and says, "Finally! God! Finally!" Dani suggests they go to the pub already, and that's what they do. 

*** 

Lance is still in bed, dozing, when he feels a feather-light kiss on his cheek. He opens his eyes to see JC about ready to leave. JC is wearing a three-piece charcoal suit, and his hair has been blow-dried and straightened. He looks exactly like he did during his interview with Chris, and Lance wants to weep because there's just no time at all to jump on JC, strip him naked, and lick him from head to toe. Sure, he just did it last night but it doesn't mean that he doesn't want to again, now. 

JC smiles, a soft smile very different from his happy-dorky one, and says, "I have to go. I'll see you in three days, okay?" 

Lance isn't happy that he has to be separated from JC for so long, but JC has been invited to give a talk at a very prestigious meeting, and Lance can't go with him because it's grant crunch time, and he wouldn't do that to Chris. Besides, it's just three days, and he figures if he says it to himself frequently enough, then time will pass faster. 

JC leans down again, this time kissing his mouth. "I love you. I'll call you as soon as I land." 

Lance gives him puppy-eyes. "Take me with you?" JC answers with another kiss, and Lance pulls away. "I love you too, you dork. Now go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you come back to me." 

JC looks at him with a gleam in his eye, pulls back the sheet, and presses a kiss to Lance's belly, his hair tickling Lance's skin. "Something to dream about while I'm gone." He leaves the room, barely escaping the pillow Lance throws at his back. 

Lance flops back on the bed and sighs. He rolls over so that he's on JC's side of the bed, snuggles into the blankets and falls asleep, the faint scent of JC's shampoo teasing at his nose.


End file.
